Be Strong
by Taintless
Summary: Ginny has always craved to be noticed, what happens when she begins obtaining dark powers from a stolen Horcrux and begins to see drastic changes in herself. And what about when a dark Slytherin begins to notice her too much? BlaiseGinnyHarry HGDM
1. Thief

Her dress had been horrible.

Ginny remembered little of that day, Fleur and Bill's wedding. The whole day seemed like a blur to her now, as she thought back. But she could recall the dress. For all Phlegm's talk of how pink would clash horribly with Ginny's hair, picking red just seemed stupidly evil.

The end result was Ginny looking like a red round tomato. The dress was frilly too – frilly, hardly Ginny's style. Most of the day, she spent scowling; the rest had been spent smiling flakily at the cameras.

It hadn't been a good day.

Seeing Harry had been painful, especially when he'd greeted her as warmly as he would have when she had been nobody but Ron's little sister. Didn't he realise _yet _that she wasn't a nobody? She'd always known, during their short time together, that she'd cared for him a little more than he did her. That had hurt but it was little to the pain now.

After Dumbledore's demise, he just didn't care anymore.

And Merlin! Harry looked so skinny and tired, but so grown up. He'd been travelling, looking for something although he wouldn't tell Ginny where or for what. It made her tummy feel sick to think he actually still thought of her as a child.

And the fact that he had to see her in this sickening tomato-coloured, frilly-styled dress just made it all the worse!

"I'm leaving tonight," he told her in a rare moment without Hermione and Ron. "I have to go…do stuff."

"I miss you, Harry," she whispered to him. "I miss us being together. Don't you miss it too?"

Harry nodded his consent quickly, looking scared of either an emotional outburst or a battering of questions. Ginny presented him with neither and it was only ten minutes later that she'd had to dab her eyes with an abandoned napkin in the bathroom.

So she had little memory of the actual day. She remembered the hideous dress and she remembered drying her eyes in the toilet. The rest was an unimportant mesh of smiling faces and notes of badly picked music by the wizard version of a DJ who'd apparently thought he was providing music for a circus.

She remembered the night clearly though. Finding herself unusually tired, she'd told her mother – who'd had rather a lot of sherry – that she was returning home. Harry, Hermione and Ron were in the corner, probably plotting out their next adventure, and Ginny didn't bother interrupt them, knowing there was little point.

Catching the Knight Bus and surviving the whole trip was an ordeal in itself and, when Ginny finally came to her house, she was ready to crash. She flung herself into her bed more than ready to sleep and-

-and sleep didn't come.

She blinked at the ceiling.

Frustration flooded through her.

Everyone was still at the wedding…Harry, he was leaving tomorrow.

I should take something, Ginny thought suddenly, something of his to remind me of him. He won't mind. Whatever he doesn't know can't hurt him, after all.

Ginny crept into his bedroom (He was sharing with Ron), her bare little feet soundless against the cheap carpet. She scuffled through his stuff a little, tense and ready to bolt at the tiniest sign of accompaniment.

And then she saw it – a box. Medium sized and plain – but pulsing. It was calling out to her. _Gin-ny,_ it whispered, _Gin-ny_. She stepped towards it as if in a trance and felt for the lock. There wasn't one. She turned the little knob and the box quivered and hesitated – as if it was considering her – then swung open.

Inside, there was a locket. It was a bit big for her liking – bulky and not pretty like the rest of her jewellery. But there was something entrancing about it all the same, powerful and precious. Most importantly of all to Ginny, it was Harry's.

She thought slowly then put the locket over her head. It seemed to shrink into her skin. She stood there for one more minute then returned hastily back to bed. She couldn't believe she had stolen…Would Harry know it had been her? Would he notice it was gone?

Was that why her heart was beating so quickly, because she was scared of Harry's calling her a thief? Or was it because, even little Ginny Weasley, could feel something dark and frightening coming from the necklace and settling itself inside of her? Either way, no matter what Ginny had been so scared about, it still didn't make her take off the locket.

She would always think back on the day and wondered why she didn't just take it off.

If only she had…It would have saved them all of the trouble that followed.

* * *

_This is going to be dark and angsty in parts, although, since I don't write Ginny a lot, I think I'm going to make her a bit funnier than Hermione ( my normal) and a little more girl-y and insecure and happy._

_Pairings are going to Blaise/Ginny/Harry and Hermione/Draco so far. i'll tell you if I decide differently. There'll definetly be moments of each although I don't know who'll stay with who, by the end._

_I'm really excited about this story! I've been planning this one for ages - since the start of this year! The sixth book just helped! Hopefully y'all will give this a chance and give me a couple of reviews! Reviews really do inspire, after all._

_What do you think so far? Worth keeping going?_


	2. Silly Little Girl

_Decided to continue this. Currently a **little AU** - The locket Harry found with Dumbledore was really a Horcrux, not a fake put there by R.A.B. I might come up with a back story for this, but for the moment I don't think it's that important, so yeah, we're in AU world. I won't do that again, try not to focus on it!_

* * *

Harry was gone when she woke up.

Gone, just like that. And with him, all her little wishes and possibilities of him remembering that he was indeed mad about her were vanished into thin air. Harry was gone. He'd left her. What he'd said at Dumbledore's funeral, he'd actually meant. He hadn't even kissed her goodbye.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that his nobility was simply a more original act to replace the old "I'll owl you" line.

Boys aren't worth the bother, she thought angrily. She hopped out of bed, and fell.

Now, that was weird….what had happened? She stood up, and looked back at her bed to see it hovering a couple of feet off the floor. Once she blinked, it was seated back to its original place and Ginny, head full of visions of brilliant green eyes and soft, long-fingered hands, continued with her half-felt rant.

"Mum," she said, entering the kitchen, "are the others gone, then?"

Mrs Weasley turned to face her youngest daughter, and her eyes were red from crying.

"Gone!" she cried shrilly, "Just like that! Gone! My two precious boys, and Hermione too! They didn't even wake me. They left quietly early this morning! Quiet as mice! What could they possibly be doing? How could they just leave! Don't they know how worried I am about them! What are they up to, Ginny? Surely they must have told you!"

"I'm sorry, mum. I know as much as you do." Ginny shook her head, quietly kicking herself. She should have stayed awake all last night, she should have made them bring her, she should have screamed and cried until they _had_ to bring her.

Now it was too late.

Ginny walked slowly back to her room, and stood still by the door. Her room was still and lonely. The house seemed very, very quiet. It was only Ginny left now with her parents. Her dad was at work and her mum was still in the kitchen, crying silently. There was nobody for her to talk to. She stayed standing, and uncertainty and desperation clawed at her. How would she survive the summer? She'd never felt so alone in her life. Tears gathered in her eyes but did not fall, and she moved to sit on her bed. She couldn't think of one thing she wanted to do, except see Harry again.

It was going to be a long summer.

Ginny woke up the next day and knew, without warning, that the world was suddenly different and that her bed was floating again. She lay there and stared at the ceiling. _Why_ was her bed floating? And why wasn't she more afraid?

She hopped off and didn't fall this time. She observed it, her heart thudding dully and slowly. She wasn't really sure what to do. What would her mum say if she saw Ginny's bed floating? How strange!

Then, with a sudden urge, Ginny raised her hand, palm facing the floor. The bed rose to be level with her hand. She brought her hand down and the bed lowered, reaching the ground gently. Something inside her was excited but neither surprised nor scared.

Ginny turned to face her lamp and reached out her hand to it from a couple of feet away. It rose and flew to her, attaching itself to her hand. She let it drop to the ground, then made it return to the press again, all with her hands. Her wand was on the dresser beside her bed, untouched.

If she could do wand magic with her hands, could she do more?

Ginny rushed to the mirror and looked at herself. Then she put her hands to her face and smoothed it down, thinking hard of Hermione. A glance later told Ginny she'd just transformed herself into her friend. Ginny put her hands to her mouth, thinking of Hermione's voice, and when she said, "Wow," it was Hermione's voice that said it, deeper and cleverer than Ginny's squeaky one.

_Do I even need my hands? _Ginny thought again, thought of her own dark red hair and petit little body and her own little small voice and pretty glittery eyes. When Ginny opened her eyes, she saw her own real reflection blinking back at her.

_Can I do anything? _Ginny closed her eyes once again and imagined an ugly big orange cat. Without seconds, she heard Crosshanks dirty meow even though she knew the cat should be off on the travels with Hermione, Harry and Ron. Ginny sent the cat back to where it should have been and instantly wanted to summon Harry to her.

_But I can't, _she thought sadly. Then he would know the truth, and Ginny didn't want to share her powers with anyone. Not even Harry. She didn't think he'd approve somehow.

The summer past quite quickly, despite what she'd earlier thought. Ginny became occupied with discovering her new powers; her mother saw little of her. She was tired though; the powers seemed to drain her sometimes. She found comfort in mediating, sitting very still outside in the quiet. Her mum was bewildered but didn't question her motives.

She found she could do almost anything. She began transfiguring new clothes for herself, it made her feel better. She gave herself new hairstyles, up styles, short styles, new bangs. Her mum and dad never really noticed, or maybe they just didn't want to. Ginny found that she didn't care. She was used to not getting attention from her family, and now she didn't need to care. Now, all of a sudden, it all seemed extremely unimportant and irrelevant.

She found that she was becoming much prettier. With her hair up in a fancy bun with some stray curls falling over her face (her hair could never be curled, always staying iron-board straight), she looked older. She almost changed everything about herself, subtle changes that made the total result much better. Ginny smiled at herself in the mirror now.

The day that she was to begin Hogwarts was the day when Ginny realised she could do some awesome things. Her mum was shaking her as she always did, yelling at her to wake up or they'd miss the train. Ginny felt a strange surge of irritation and pointed her hand at her mother, crying, "Freeze!"

Her mother froze.

Ginny, struck by inspiration, lifted herself from the bed and stretched out her arms, shouting, "Freeze!"

Time froze.

She knew instinctively. Which was great for Ginny. She'd always been a little uncomplicated, in her thoughts, reaching the nice and easy conclusion, rather than bother search for a more complex one. She knew messing with time was not very safe, but she didn't really think of the implications. Or she just didn't care much anymore.

It meant she could have a few more hours lie-in. Ginny, ignoring her mum's frozen form, snuggled back into her warm bed, and rested more peacefully than she had in some time.

When she awoke, she felt much more refreshed. Smiling lazily at her mum, she said "Unfreeze!" And once her mum was unfrozen, so was time, and the world returned to its normal order.

"Up, Ginny! You must get up!"

"Yes, mum, I'm up. I'll be ready in a few minutes. We won't miss the train."

Her mum looked taken back from Ginny's fast response. It had always been a difficult task to get Ginny up – one of the only jobs Mrs Weasley happily gave to the twins and one they always happily did, unfortunately for Ginny (who's spent some mornings on the train, ears still ringing from their loud horns or hair still slightly wet from the cold jugs of water they'd sent chasing after her around the Burrow) .

Ginny got ready at her own pace, knowing she could slow down time if she had to. She put up her hair again, moulding it easily with her hands into perfection. She'd already improved the texture and shine of it. She rubbed her skin, adding a few cute carefully placed freckles on to her nose, just for the fun of it (since she'd removed them all yesterday) and made a new outfit for herself, just to wear on the train. Shed already adjusted her uniform, ironing it out with a flick on her hand and adding a few cute plaits into her skirt. Her shirt was white and new (she hadn't had a new one since first year) and her cloak was clean and the texture was now velvet and soft – expensive, yet it hadn't cost her a penny.

Her mum looked at her as she entered the kitchen. Ginny made her own toast (and hurried up the process) and didn't say a word to her.

"Are you okay, Gin? You're okay, aren't you?"

"Of course, mum."

"I wonder where your brother is."

"Me too, mum." In truth, Ginny hadn't really been thinking of Harry, Ron or Hermione. Or anybody. But she was excited about starting Hogwarts again with her new powers. Sixth year was going to be fun.

Her Muggle outfit was not her normal rags. Instead, she was wearing tight jeans and a black jumper. She felt comfy and fashionable. Her hair was up now, and her skin perfect. Everything was perfect. She hid the Horcrux under her jumper.

She wasn't a fool. Although she hadn't thought at all about the origin of her new powers, she wasn't silly enough to take it off.

She didn't really say goodbye to her mother and was oddly only civil to her. The woman annoyed her now. Before Ginny had craved her shared portion of affection, now it only irked her. She couldn't wait to be with her classmates again – she couldn't wait to show off the new her. Her mum looked worried, but still left before the train had taken off. Ginny lifted her own luggage into the train. It was light, she didn't need to bring much with her after all – she'd only brought her limited old wand as an after thought for classes.

She walked through the hall of the train and thought only one thing: _Notice me._

_They_ did. _They_ all stared, and beckoned her into their carriage, and called out to her. She'd never felt so elevated in her life. She didn't once think of Harry. _They_ thought was beautiful, and _they_ wanted to be with her. The only thing that mattered to Ginny at that moment was what _they_ thought of her.

She was pondering what people she would grace with her presence, when she was pulled into a carriage, not harshly but powerfully. She froze time without thought and saw her attacker. It was Blaise Zabini. She backed away from him, and unfroze time, curious as to what he wanted with her.

"I wasn't frozen," he said instantly. "I was just shocked that you are freezing time already."

"Excuse me?" There goes her idea that she'd already made a Slytherin fall under her charms.

"I might as well tell you now, Weasley," he spat, "that your magic won't work on me. So don't bother."

"I haven't done anything to you, Zabini!" she responded angrily.

"No, but you've been playing with dark magic, haven't you? Making everyone think you're the be-all-and-end-all. It won't work on me. I see you for what you really are."

"I don't understand," she told him truthfully.

"Ever since I was a baby, I've been immune to all magic. Ever wonder why I never interrupt into Draco's duels with your little friends? I couldn't be found out, the Dark lord can't know, or Merlin knows what he'd make me do. That isn't the subject matter here, however, the subject matter is how you, a simple girl, have managed to obtain such dark magic…" His voice trailed off, his eyes lowering to her chest. "You've found one, haven't you? And you put it on…?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said coldly, "but I don't care. I'm leaving."

"So go. But you would have already, if you wanted to do so. So why're you still here? Because you're curious yourself… you know I know the truth. So…tell me. Are you or are you not wearing a Horcrux around your neck?"

And she found herself nodding, despite herself.

He was close to her, all of a sudden, dark hands stroking the locket through her clothes. She shivered at his touch, although she could barely feel it. Her eyes looked into his deep brown ones, and she couldn't really breathe. She'd never realised how handsome Blaise was before, but then she'd never even heard him speak before now or spared him a second thought.

"Take it off, Ginny," he whispered to her now, using her first name. "take the Horcrux off."

"No."

"Take it off!" His voice was stronger this time.

"No!"

He tried to pull it off, and she suddenly felt a clap of anger come from her and strike him hardly, leaving a mark on his face as if a whip had just slashed him. He was bleeding.

"You silly little girl," he said, anger on his face but his demeanour and voice still calm and indifferent. The blood dribbled down his neck. "You'll put us all in danger. You don't know what you're playing with, you really don't."

"Leave me alone!" she cried, and, with another clap, he was doubled over and clutching his stomach. She couldn't see through his clothes but she knew he was bleeding again.

"You. Silly. Little. Girl." His teeth were gritted together, pain evident on his face, but his brown eyes were still locked on hers.

"I can't take it off," she told him, blood rushing in her ears. "I need it. You don't understand…"

"You're addicted to it, to the power. But know this, Weasley, you can have all the power in the world and still be unhappy. I can see you now, for what you really are, and your eyes are blood red from that dark power. Can you see it? Look into the mirror and think about seeing what you really are, not what you want to make yourself into it. You might be surprised."

She conjured up a mirror, her hand shaking. He remained there, observing her. She looked at herself and saw the sleek hair, up in its beautiful style, and her fashionable clothes and new figure. She saw her perfect skin, her fake freckles and her shiny, pretty eyes.

"Now look closer," Blaise told her, leaning forward.

She leaned into the mirror, until her forehead was touching it and, almost instantly her outfit turned into her old-style clothes, hand-me-downs, almost rags. Her hair was down again, in no style and almost impossibly long and dull, with no curls or kinks. Her skin was rosy and freckly and imperfect. Her figure was flatter and childlike again. And her eyes were sapphire red, opaque and ugly. The eyes of an animal. The eyes of Voldemort.

She was ugly again. The mirror was banished from her sight immediately and all her spells reapplied again, in less than a second. Blaise was smirking, and she couldn't help but hate him.

"Not too pretty, is it?" he taunted.

"And that's what you see, is it? Where everyone else sees perfection, you see _that_." Her voice was bitter and cross.

"Yes."

She turned away from him, feeling oddly defenceless, almost naked.

"And you know all of the spells I cast?" she questioned.

"Yes," he said. "I can feel them. I don't know why or how. I just know."

She didn't want to talk to him anymore. Everything felt like it had turned sour on her.

"But when I hurt you, you felt it," she argued half-heartedly.

"Yes," he said, "but if I'd been more prepared, I would have stopped it. It was only a second. No lasting effects, that's a more accurate way of explaining than just immune. I can _feel_ magic, just not be under any spells or obtain any lasting effects." He pointed to his cut on his face, which was indeed completely healed already. Ginny had the feeling he had only been waiting for someone to talk to about his condition – did nobody else know?

"Why're you telling me?" She couldn't help but be curious.

"Because you can't tell anyone, or I'll tell them about your new powers."

"And you won't tell if I don't?" She couldn't keep the hope from her words.

"For the time being," he said. "But I'll be watching."

She crossed her arms and couldn't quite look at him, staring at the wall beside her instead. She could feel his dark eyes on her. She wished he'd stop looking at her like that – like he could really see everything dark that was inside her, every mean thought or unfriendly day-dream she might have had.

"But one of your spells did work on me, Ginny," he told her, and his voice was soft, a complete contrast to before. "I have noticed you."

When she looked back at him sharply, he was already gone, and she was left in the carriage, alone. And, despite the fact that everyone except Blaise would beg her to join them in their carriage, that suddenly didn't matter quite so much anymore, and she stayed on her own for the rest of the journey, and used no more of her new powers.

* * *

_Gonna continue with this, mainly just because my inspiration for Three is kind of gone for a break, and I am stuck with the next chapter of Thirst. So...yeah...I like this story, it's just NEW! I am going to write Ginny completely different to how I write Hermione. I think Ginny's a little simplier and quite immature. She's not like Hermione - a constant worrier - she's a real "girl." This story'll be about her growing up a lot, finding her strength (because I don't think she could change so quickly. I think she's still that same little girl, back in first year)and about the consquences of her actions, and about Blaise. A new character to me too. There'll be Draco/Hermione in this too, but not straight away._

_Thanks to: _

_Riah riddle, sugar-n-spice, poke-the-sleeping-dragon, Twinkling Blue Eyes (Good advice. I think when she reveals to harry that she never gave up on him, it porves that she still cares. that the rest of it all was a bit of an act)), Seghen (Great updates, keep 'em coming!), illyria-light, Thwarted Moony, WalkBeneathTheWillowTrees, loeuy31 (I will. This story is all about her finding her strength), Vedgirl102 (No death threat? sadness ) Sycoticatalast (Your name is so long!) _


	3. Salty Leave

Ginny felt like she couldn't breathe. Everyone was looking at her. Part of her loved those admiring eyes, but part of her was only seeking out those one pair of eyes that could _really_ see….Stupid Blaise, he had ruined everything.

* * *

She was currently kissing Dean Thomas on a long term basis. Gentle, artistic Dean, who she had dumped because he treated her like such a lady, and because she had thought Harry might be interested. Poor old Dean, who really, really liked her, and who she didn't think of as anything more than just a friend.

It was playing with his head, kissing him like this. He probably thought they were going to get back together. They weren't. Ginny had her sights set bigger than Dean. He was nothing to her. But he was a nice kisser.

She'd taken to, when she wasn't breaking little boys' hearts, mediating outside, just at the border of the Forbidden Forest. It was oddly peaceful. The magic had been draining her lately; a quick mediation was all she needed to recharge her batteries. She could hear everything in the quiet, the birds twittering, the odd animal scurrying through the grass. Every footsteps, every hoot, every tweet. She heard everything. She sat on the soft earth, and felt connected to it.

It was amazing how someone as silent as Blaise could ruin all that. Just by being there. His every breath, every _blink_. She felt like she could feel his every thought, and cursed him for being so noisy!

She opened her eyes now as she heard him approach. Arching her neck slightly, she looked up at him from her cross-legged position. She didn't frown or smile, just looked at him. Sometimes he just sat with her, doing nothing. Sometimes he stood far away, watching her. And sometimes he insisted again for herto take off the Horcrux.

"Do you know how long you've been out here?" he asked her quietly now.

"No," she replied truthfully. She'd been in a complete trance, completely not in this world.

"You've been out here for thirteen hours, on last count, Ginny. Everyone up in the castle is looking for you."

"Why?" she pondered bitterly. "Why should they even care?"

"God, Ginny." He looked away, into the far distance. "I don't think I should be the one to tell you." There was no trace of emotion in his voice,. but it seemed just a little more raw than normal.

Worry ratcheted through her. She stood quickly, looping easily out of her twisted sitting position, and faced him. "What is it, Blaise?" she demanded, eyes searching his face desperately for some clue. "What's after happening?"She knew it was something bad by his impossibly bleak expression.

* * *

Draco wished Granger would say something. Boredom had made him want to provoke her but she was defiant in her silence, and he was completely and utterly bored.

"Bet you never knew it would turn out like this," he mocked. "Me, Draco Malfoy, your guard. You, Hermione Granger, completely at my mercy."

"You're wrong," she spoke at last. "I imagined you being a Death Eater and me being captured perfectly. I'd just hoped you would prove me wrong."

"Hope's a waste of time then," he spat nastily, and she didn't reply.

They'd only caught her three hours ago, and already she was looking worse for wear. She wasn't crying, but the pain was on her face was very readable. Draco wondered where her two sidekicks were.

"Bit disappointing for you, I suppose, Malfoy. Having to mind the prisoners. A bit degrading. Wouldn't you have liked to be up there in the front, killing with Daddy?" Her words were bitter, but her tone just tired.

He didn't tell her that Voldemort didn't trust him to do anything big now, after he had failed to kill Dumbledore. He didn't tell her how glad he was because of this. He didn't tell her how he had never really wanted to be a Death Eater, and had realised that night that he wasn't a killer. He didn't tell her anything like that, because it was none of her business.

"How did you get caught then, Granger?" he asked her cheerfully, clearly wanting to make the most of the fact that she was now talking.

She didn't reply, and he scowled in disappointment.

But did not give up. Draco Malfoy was used to getting what he wanted.

"Where's Potty and the Weasel? I thought it was all for one and one for all with you lot."

"It was," she said softly.

"What's wrong? Realised what an ugly, hairy creature you really are, have they?"

No response.

"Or perhaps Weasley has finally found some money and realised he could buy a better type of woman-"

"Don't talk about Ron like that!" She had stood up (he was surprised she was able to!) and her eyes were flashing dangerously. The bars that separated looked decidedly weaker now that she was angry, and he took an unconscious step back.

She hadn't finished. "We're not all like you, Malfoy. Don't taint us all with the same _disgusting_ brush!"

She was breathing heavily. And then, in one terrible moment, he realised she was crying.

"Merlin," he said, and was surprised by the emptiness of his voice. There was no malice or spite there. "One of them is dead, aren't they? One of your friends has been killed."

Silence.

"Ron. It was Ron."

And then more silence followed, all through the night. But Draco knew she was still crying. Just very quietly.

* * *

"No…"

She heard Blaise in this distance, telling her how sorry he was. But she could barely hear him. Blood rushed in her eyes, and dots danced in front of her eyes. Ron…her brother…dead?

"Ginny, don't you think you should go back into the castle? You must be cold," Blaise suggested.

She shook her head mutely, still trying to take it all in. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes wide in horror. It didn't occur to her that Blaise was a Slytherin and that this was just the type of joke his house got their kicks from. She knew Blaise wasn't like that, and she knew that there was really empathy and concern in his eyes.

"No!" she screamed suddenly and fell to the ground, her knees clashing with the soil painfully.

He tried to catch her but didn't get there in time. Instead he just held her in his arms. She shoved him off, still not believing it.

"Ron!" she cried, trying to summon him to her.

Nobody came through that clearing in the woods where her hand was pointed towards.

"Ron Weasley, get your butt out here!" she yelled, using her powers with all her might.

She stared so hard at the clearing her eyes began to burn. It was only then that it all dropped on her, and she realised that her brother was never coming back.

"Come on," he said, and tried to pull her up. "Come on, I'll bring you up to the castle. You need to be with your friends."

"No," she told him. She couldn't put up any defences like this. She looked at him with wild, sincere eyes. "I don't have any friends. No real ones. I-I can't go see them." The thought of them all clamouring around her, trying to steal part of her tragedy into their own lives greedily with that terribly pity in their eyes, made her feel sick.

"What do you want to do, then?" he asked.

She slid down the trunk of a tree and replied childlishly, "I want to stay here."

He frowned. It wasn't safe.

She looked up at him and then said in a low whisper, "Stay with me?"

He'd never seen anyone like quite so vulnerable in his life. He slid down the trunk beside her and put one arm around her shoulder. It felt completely natural. She put her head to his chest, and didn't speak one word for the whole night. But he did as she asked, and stayed with her all the time, and never once fell asleep.

* * *

She stirred in the early sunlight and lifted her head from Blaise's chest. She looked at his handsome face in the sunlight for a moment before looking back at what had woken her. Footsteps.

Through the clearing, a boy was coming.

She rose to meet him, very gently so she wouldn't wake Blaise. She stepped forward at the same pace as he was walking. They met halfway. Once she saw him properly, she couldn't help but lurch dizzily towards him, needing to be close with him. A desperate need seemed to have taken over him too, and they hugged each other tightly. She never wanted to leave him go ever again.

"Harry…" she mumbled. Large salty tears rolled down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Gin. I'm so, so, so sorry…."

* * *

_Yes, it's a bit fluffy. I dunno what's happening to me these days. Guess I've just got in a bit of a fluffy, yet angst-y mood._

_I don't think this story will be too long, actually._

_**Poke the Sleeping Dragon – **I might take you up on that offer to Beta this story. But I thought this chapter was just too short, it'd be wasting your time. Thanks!_

_**Illyria-light** – Thanks for the continued support! You rock!_

_**Seghen** – Buffy is always a lot of inspiration to me, particularly in the earlier series, so any comparison is probably well-justified. Thanks!_

_**Loeuy31** – Thank you most kindly!_

_Sorry about the short update. Just to keep the story going. Please review! I like reviews, it's sad when you don't know whether people are reading or not._


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